


revenge (a dish best served in tupperware)

by krashlyntome (bestthreemonths)



Series: frictionverse [4]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestthreemonths/pseuds/krashlyntome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ashlyn gets on Ali's bad side, her wife makes sure she lives to regret it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	revenge (a dish best served in tupperware)

**Author's Note:**

> Blame [Reesa](perksofbeingayawdy.tumblr.com) and [Sunny](sonyajac.tumblr.com) for this.

Over five years (and just as many school years) of marriage with Ali, Ashlyn has grown accustomed to a certain routine every morning. Ever since the twins started keeping a normal sleep schedule, every morning is pretty much the same: Ali wakes her up with a kiss (on the forehead or on the lips depending on her mood) and goes downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast while Ashlyn wakes up the kids. Ashlyn’s gotten accustomed to taking showers at night, while Ali usually showers after they all leave for school.

These days, Ali goes downstairs to wake Mackenzie up first because ever since she started high school and started being allowed to wear (a little bit of) makeup, she takes an extra half hour to primp and preen, but Ali always comes back for Ashlyn’s wake-up call.

This morning, however, Ashlyn jolts awake when she hears Ali shout up the stairs for her. She hadn't even felt her get out of bed, so Ashlyn sits straight up, sure there must be an emergency.

“What’s wrong?” Ashlyn asks, rushing down the stairs, where she finds Ali standing in the kitchen with Mac, hands on her hips.

“Remember when I went to bed early last night because I was exhausted?” Ali asks.

Ashlyn racks her brain, which is still waking up, to think about last night. Ali had been hosting a book club that Ashlyn sometimes joins, but this month’s book was some romance that Ashlyn was not at all interested in. Instead she volunteered to get the girls out of the house as opposed to making them all go downstairs and trusting that two 4-year-olds and a 14-year-old would be able to behave, get along, and not bother the adults for at least two hours (a rarity).

They’d gone to dinner, where they picked up a meal for Ali because she only served hors-d'oeuvres at book club, and then to a cafe where they played board games till they lost track of time and Ali texted asking when they were coming home.

“I—yeah, I remember,” Ashlyn says. Ali had been sleepy when they got home, so Ashlyn had told her to go to bed and that she’d take care of things like getting the girls to bed and washing the wine glasses, which she’d done. “Your food is in the fridge if you want it for lunch.”

“I’m not concerned about the food,” Ali says. “I specifically asked you to move the clothes in the washing machine to the dryer because Mac is presenting a project today and wanted to dress up.”

“I didn’t even know you were doing laundry,” Ashlyn says calmly, noting that Mackenzie is still in the room.

“It’s fine, I can wear something else,” Mac says, sensing the tension in the room. “I’ll get the twins up.”

The women watch her go upstairs before turning back to one another, both now on the defensive.

“You said you’d take care of everything,” Ali says evenly.

“Yeah, like putting the girls to bed and making sure all your friends’ messes were cleaned up!” Ashlyn exclaims. “How was I supposed to know you had laundry to be done?”

“Because I told you!” Ali retorts. “When you were brushing me off and telling me to get rest because I’ve been working so many hours to meet this deadline on this project!”

It might be slightly true, Ashlyn realizes, but when she was kissing Ali goodnight and agreeing to take care of things, it sounded like Ali was just listing off reasons she couldn’t sleep. Ashlyn hadn’t considered that there would be more than what met her eye in the kitchen and living room. But now she’s far too annoyed about being woken up like this and immediately being thrown into a fight.

“First of all, it’s not the end of the world that Mac has to wear something else. She’s a resourceful kid,” Ashlyn says. “But this is the perfect example of me being right that you’re too tired.”

It’s been three years since Ali first branched off from the company she worked for to start her own consulting firm. The initial set-up had been stressful and time-consuming, but ever since she’d hired some staff and gotten settled into her office (and a more official home office than the makeshift desk at the dining room table she’d used for so long, a birthday present renovation from Ashlyn), she’d been much happier working for herself.

She landed a major account two months ago, which was cause for huge celebration in the Harris-Krieger household, but the past few weeks have been hell on Ali’s schedule getting ready for a major presentation for them, which not only means late nights at the office with Julie and Crystal, but also an upcoming business trip to San Francisco while Ashlyn juggles the three kids’ schedules on her own for four days.

When it’s over, the monthly retainer the client now pays Ali will pay for a much-needed vacation for the couple and a plane trip for Ali’s mom to come stay with the kids, but in the meantime, life is chaotic to say the very least.

“I’m not that tired!” Ali exclaims. “Don’t turn this on me.”

“If you weren’t exhausted you wouldn’t be freaking out on me like this.”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m telling you I’m really disappointed that you didn’t listen to me,” Ali says evenly, bringing her voice down. “You’re the one getting defensive. I was actually going to get the clothes out and then bring you something special in bed to thank you for all your help yesterday.”

“So I forget one thing and it negates everything else?”

“Pick a defense and stick to it,” Ali says, rolling her eyes as she grabs the supplies for the kids’ lunches. The twins get PB&J (strawberry for Charlotte and grape for Emma), apple slices, and pretzels while Mackenzie and her more “mature” palate gets whatever Ali’s meal prepped for the week. This week it's grilled chicken with sweet potatoes and spaghetti squash, which Ashlyn knows she’ll swap out for French fries in the cafeteria anyway because she's seen her do it before.

The one thing all the lunches have in common is a note from Ali on a napkin. Most days it's a simple “I love you” or “have a good day,” but some days they're personalized depending on what someone needs. When Mackenzie had a falling out with a friend, Ali sent along encouraging quotes and song lyrics for a week. Mac pretends to be too cool, but when Ashlyn was in her room a few months ago looking for hangers, which always end up hoarded in Mac’s closet, she found all the napkins folded neatly in a shoebox she accidentally knocked off the shelf.

“I'm sorry, babe,” Ashlyn sighs. It's probably not the right nickname for this situation, as it's usually reserved for casual shouts down the cereal aisle when Ali needs Ashlyn to grab the rolled oats she forgot or quick phone calls when Ashlyn’s picking up the dry cleaning and needs permission to give the twins one lollipop each so close to dinner. It's not the pet name she should use to appease her wife when she's this frustrated.

Ali seems to agree, sighing heavily and not making eye contact, even when Ashlyn kisses her on the cheek. “You should get ready for work.”

It's Ashlyn’s turn to roll her eyes as she leaves the kitchen and walks upstairs, walking past the twins’ side-by-side rooms where Mackenzie is helping them pick out outfits.

“Thanks for your help,” Ashlyn says, leaning against the doorway to Emma’s room, which was their nursery when they were babies. “I'm sorry about your clothes.”

Mackenzie waves her off. “Between you and me, I don't think my mom did tell you to do it. They're my clothes, so I probably should have done it. I didn't mean to get you in trouble.”

“Why are you in trouble?” Emma asks Ashlyn, eyes wide.

“Because your mommy is crazy,” Ashlyn teases, her eyes sparkling as she picks her up to plant a kiss on her face. “I'll take these munchkins off your hands so you can be ready on time.”

“Cool,” Mac says, but she doesn't leave before peeking her head into her old room (now Charlotte’s) and talking her sister into wearing matching socks.

~

Ali brushes past Ashlyn when she comes upstairs to shower, barely looking at her. “Are you ready? The girls are waiting.”

“Yeah, I'm heading down in a sec,” Ashlyn grumbles, finishing up with the buttons on her shirt. “This was kind of a crappy way to start my morning, you know.”

“Poor baby,” Ali says. “It's not fun for me either.”

“Can I have a kiss?” Ashlyn asks as Ali sheds her clothes for a shower, the kind of comfortable that comes with years of marriage and holding up their vows to love one another in sickness and in health. The sight of her wife naked will always get to Ashlyn, a fact Ali is completely aware of. Just because they've lived together for years and have seen each other in every state of undress, some situations far less sexy than others, doesn't mean Ashlyn is immune to it.

Ali grits her teeth and kisses Ashlyn’s lips as quick as she can. It's the same idea of not going to bed angry that always prevents them from going their separate ways without a proper goodbye. This kiss isn't proper, though, and Ashlyn rolls her eyes, almost wishing Ali had kept it.

“Love you,” Ashlyn says impatiently.

“Love you too,” Ali retorts, her tone of voice sarcastic but the truth of the words still there. “Even though you're really fucking insufferable sometimes.”

“You're no walk in the park yourself, princess.”

~

Ashlyn has one of those rare Friday mornings where everything happens all at once. Usually these mornings are reserved for Mondays, but before she even gets into the office there’s a crisis to solve and paperwork to fill out and three different students who want to meet with her. The first moment she has to herself to just breathe is at lunchtime, so she puts a do-not-disturb sign on the doorknob before grabbing the bag lunch Ali packed for her and settling on the couch.

She reaches for her phone to call Ali, but then she remembers the fight from that morning and reconsiders. Arguments like that probably annoy her the most because nobody’s clearly right. They both are stubborn as hell, something they’ve known since they started their relationship, and they probably both are at fault really.

Ashlyn knows either someone will have to fold first and apologize (which the other will graciously accept but not without making at least three snide remarks before finally letting it go) or, more likely, they’ll both pretend it never happened, instead breaking the deadlock using a cute kid or two and having them suggest a family movie or game night.

So instead of calling Ali for a chat to break up her day and feel the sense of calm her wife always brings her, Ashlyn decides to eat her lunch in silence. She rolls her eyes when she sees Ali packed her a sandwich instead of the food she meal prepped and sent along with Mackenzie, but of course she did. She also sent carrots and dip, but no cookie or granola bar like the twins get.

She starts with the carrots, popping open the Tupperware and getting probably way too much ranch dressing on the first baby carrot. When she bites into it, though, she spits it out immediately, sending it flying halfway across the office. She's not sure what that is, but it wasn't the ranch she was expecting. Probably one of Ali’s stupid healthy veggie dip things she made from a Pinterest recipe. But when she dips a finger in the dip and brings it to her nose and mouth, she realizes it's mayonnaise and grimaces, putting the top back on and deciding to eat the rest plain.

She smirks when she realizes this is another thing she can use against Ali to prove she's overworked and overtired, though, and that's worth the disgusting mayo-covered carrot.

That smirk gets wiped right off her face when she takes the sandwich out of its container and bites into it. What looked like peanut butter and jelly is actually peanut butter, ketchup, and pickles hidden between, potentially the most disgusting combination to ever grace Ashlyn’s tongue.

She fumbles through the bag for a napkin, spitting out the remnants and wiping her mouth on it. She grabs the water bottle Ali packed and takes a swig to wash her mouth out before spitting that right back out as well. She looks down at herself to see her shirt drenched with what she thought was water but is actually vinegar, and that's when the napkin catches her eye again and she realizes she was so caught up in thinking about her annoyance with Ali that she had skipped her usual first step of reading the note Ali packs with her lunch every day.

“You haven’t seen ‘crazy’ yet, babe. xxx,” reads the note.

Ashlyn stares at the words in disbelief before finally dissolving in laughter. It's the most petty revenge she can think of, but it's so exceptionally Ali. She thinks back to their goodbye kiss, when Ali was probably so goddamn satisfied with herself for this prank and Ashlyn was completely oblivious.

She sends a picture of the napkin along with a string of middle finger emojis to Ali, who reads it almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting for a reaction. Her phone rings seconds later.

“New phone, who's this?” Ashlyn asks dryly, and she can hear Ali cackling already on the other end, along with other voices. “Jesus, Alex, did you tell them?”

“I couldn't keep it to myself!” Ali laughs. “Are you okay?”

“Well I'm fucking hungry, that's what I am,” Ashlyn grumbles.

“Mac is bringing you your real lunch on her lunch period.”

“You got her involved?”

“Of course,” Ali says. “She has to know that when your wife tells your 4-year-old that her other parent is crazy, she can't get away with it.”

“Emma is a blabbermouth,” Ashlyn groans. “Truly your daughter.”

“You're the one who couldn't keep her mouth shut in front of multiple kids.”

“If Mackenzie heard you calling her a kid she’d be pissed.”

“She's my baby whether she likes it or not,” Ali says, and Ashlyn can hear the eyeroll through the phone. “You didn't think I'd let you starve, did you?”

“Kind of, yeah,” Ashlyn says. “Like I said, crazy bitch.”

“If you'd said bitch, that would have been jalapeños and peanut butter and bleach instead of vinegar.”

“She's homicidal too!” Ashlyn exclaims.

“You don't have that much of a death wish, and you know Mac would be the first to tattle on you for a bad word after the F-bomb incident.”

Two years ago, Mackenzie was grounded for the weekend after she said “fuck” in front of Ali. Her excuse was that Ashlyn said it, to which Ali gave her wife a pointed look and said it was unacceptable for her to say it either.

They agreed on a swear jar of sorts where Ali and Ashlyn would pay $50 for every “bad word” and $100 for that word. At the end of the month, the money in the jar goes to some sort of family activity. On “good” months they might go out to dinner, but on one particularly “bad” month over the summer, Mackenzie got an iPhone, the leftover money going toward the toy of choice for each twin.

Not surprisingly, Mackenzie has been eager to catch Ashlyn and Ali in the act ever since.

“You're not a bitch,” Ashlyn concedes. “But can we please call it even?”

“Depends, what are you offering?”

“Other than my tastebuds that just suffered?”

“You're a baby.”

“Georgia’s sleeping over tonight.”

Ali groans.

“It's a good thing!” Ashlyn says. “I'll pay her and Mac to watch the little ones and let them order pizza, and we can go have a date night.”

“Are you going to steal money from the swear jar?” Ali teases.

“You bet your ass.”

“Fifty bucks!” Mackenzie exclaims triumphantly, standing in the doorway.

Ashlyn doesn't mind the laughter on the other end of the phone this time. She probably deserved that.

That night, not even ten minutes into some crappy movie in a theater in which they choose seats in the darkest corner in back, Ali falls asleep on Ashlyn’s shoulder, snoring softly, which only happens when she's exhausted beyond belief.

“Hey, baby,” Ashlyn whispers, touching her knee softly when the credits start to roll. “Nice nap?”

“What?” Ali asks, slowly coming back to earth.

“I'm not going to say I told you so,” Ashlyn teases, kissing her temple. “But I told you so.”


End file.
